


helpless to the bass and faded light.

by itsnotgillian



Series: young, wild, and free. [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, I APOLOGIZE, M/M, What even is this mess, it's my first work containing a pairing so forgive me, the idea came to me this morning and i just???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotgillian/pseuds/itsnotgillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hansol is a struggling film major whose current concern is the music he's supposed to be using for his film's ending scene. Chan works for the campus radio and decides to help out.</p><p>(Or, alternatively, that Chansol college au wherein they're both blushing losers who fall incredibly hard for each other)</p>
            </blockquote>





	helpless to the bass and faded light.

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello!! 
> 
> this is my first svt work that contains a pairing and i literally finished it in a day ;; i even brought my laptop along to my sister's recital bc i needed to finish it that badly
> 
> the prompt was originally “you work for the campus radio station and keep passively aggressively dedicating songs to me” but i kind of strayed from it a bit oops
> 
> and i also based this from my seventeen college au [post](http://imaginewithseventeen.tumblr.com/post/132407242797/can-you-do-a-if-was-a-college-student-kind) on tumblr
> 
> but enough of all that talk. i hope you enjoy!

It’s barely half-past noon and Hansol is _this_ close to tearing all of his hair out. He stares blankly at the laptop screen, scrolling through what could easily be the tenth list of ‘good’ ambient songs suggested by online users. Honestly, all of the lists he’s gone through were full of airy, nonsensical tunes that had no feeling. All he needs is one more song to fit the mood of the last scene in his short film that he needed to turn in for his Film Scoring class. It’s the most important aspect of this project and it just so happens to be the one thing he doesn’t have.

Hansol groans as he leans back in his chair, hands coming up to rub at his face. He pulls his large headphones off, the previously muffled chatter inside the dining hall suddenly amplifying as it fully reaches his ears. He checks his watch and assesses how much time he has left until his next class. _45 minutes_. He decides that it’s enough for him to pay a visit to that music major that lives on the same floor as him. Hansol hopes he might be able to suggest some good songs. 

With one final sigh, Hansol pushes his chair back and packs up before walking out of the dining hall. 

 

* * *

  

Chan’s late and he’s really fucking upset because he’s never been late in his life. Like, _ever_. At this point, he’s absolutely sure that Jihoon’s going to turn homicidal the moment he walks through the door.

He races past other students who are on their way to class, dodging groups and skaters and just generally trying to arrive at his destination unscathed. He spots the squat little building of the campus radio and his chest floods with relief because he’s _almost_ there and if his legs could just work a little faster, then that would be even better.

He skids to a stop in front of the glass door and immediately checks if Jihoon is still inside, his previous elation melting away when he realized that yes, his sort-of boss is still inside, waiting for him. Chan pushes the door open and steps inside, the tune of some song reaching his ears. He recognizes it as Chris Brown’s ‘Fine by Me’ and under any other circumstance, he would have been bobbing his head to it by now, but he’s too distracted (not to mention mildly frightened) by the way Jihoon was watching his every move.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry—“ Chan was ready to launch into an apology but Jihoon holds his hand up like he was some age-old mentor or something and Chan knew better than to continue talking.

“You know I can’t leave the booth until you’re here,” Jihoon’s voice was quiet as he gets up from his seat, simultaneously collecting his things and stuffing them into his bag. “Just take over. I have a class in five minutes.”

Chan nods and walks over to the huge console in the middle of the room, ignoring the annoyed little tug in his gut when Jihoon mumbles a distasteful ‘Tsk, freshmen.’ He sets his bag down on the floor and pulls up another one of those rolling chairs so he can sit down. He hears the door open and he thinks it’s Jihoon leaving, but a voice completely unfamiliar to him speaks up.

“Hey, Jihoon, do you have a minute?” 

Chan turns around and sees a boy standing in the doorway; a backpack slung over one shoulder and black headphones hanging around his neck. He looks like a sophomore; a junior at most, and there was a red flannel shirt peeking out from under the gray sweater he was wearing. There seems to be an air of ease around him as he casually leans against the doorframe, effectively blocking Jihoon’s way. This, in turn, draws out a frustrated sigh from the shorter boy.

“No, I most definitely do _not_ have a minute. I’m late for class, Hansol. Now, move,” Jihoon tries to step past the newcomer but he’s relentless.

“Please, I just need you to suggest a song that I can use for my film!”

“Not right now,” Jihoon growls under his breath, glancing briefly at Chan, as if to check whether he’s listening to the whole conversation. He is, to be honest, and he thinks that this Hansol kid must have some major balls to look Jihoon in the eye like that while the latter is practically fuming.

“I’ll help you. “ Chan cuts in. “I’m not a music major like Jihoon, but I _do_ work for the campus radio, so…” He raised his eyebrows at Hansol as if to say ‘ _Move your ass out of the way so Jihoon can get to class and not murder us both._ ’

Hansol considers him for a moment, bright brown eyes looking straight into Chan’s darker ones. After a while, he shrugs, finally stepping aside to let Jihoon pass.

“Thank fucking _god_ ,” Jihoon practically bolts out of the booth, his feet thumping loudly against the ground.

Hansol then turns to Chan as he closes the door, his eyes scanning over the whole room.

“Hm. Not bad. I take it you enjoy working here?” Hansol asks, walking over to where Chan was busy lining up songs for his shift. He glances up once, his eyes focusing on the taller boy for a moment before returning to the computer screen in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I have the past campus DJs to thank for all of this,” Chan replies, leaning back in his chair. He realizes that Hansol’s still standing up, so he motions to the seat next to him. “Sit down.”

Hansol does as he’s told, the office chair’s upholstery squeaking as he sank down on the furniture’s scratchy material. His hand comes up to rest on the table, his fingers drumming out an unknown beat. Chan decides that he’s added enough songs to last at least half an hour, so he turns to the boy next to him, a small, yet expectant smile on his face. 

“Hansol, right?” The other boy nods. “You’ve got some guts, bothering Jihoon like that.” Chan sounded half impressed. “I heard you needed help?”

Hansol chuckles before he nods again, pulling his bag off his shoulder. He brings his laptop out, and sets it down on the table in front of him.

“So, like, I’m a film major and my Film Scoring professor required us to create this short film that uses minimal dialogue so that we can use music as the primary medium of emotion,” Hansol begins to explain as he waits for his laptop to boot up. “But, unfortunately, I can’t seem to find a song to use for my ending scene.”

Chan observes as Hansol messes around with his laptop for a few moments, opening up a complex-looking moviemaking software. He can’t help but stare in awe at how easily Hansol manipulates the different options and controls.

“Here,” Hansol announces, pressing the play button. “I want you to watch the whole thing so that you have an idea of what I’m looking for.”

Chan just nods and focuses his attention on the screen. He takes note of how sophisticated the video looks even from the beginning, as if it was made by a professional, and how all the details seem to come together to create something that could only be considered as art. He watches intently, trying to follow the storyline. Hansol wasn’t kidding when he said that he’d use minimal dialogue. As the film approaches its end, the music fades out and nothing replaces it, leaving the video to play in silence. _So, this is where he needs help._

The clip ends and Hansol leans over in between their chairs, their shoulders touching and his eyes wide with expectancy. Chan takes a moment to fully look at his face, and he’s surprised to see that his eyes are even brighter up close, so bright that they seem to be _glowing_ , and _holy_ _shit_ he’s never seen eyes that pretty.

Chan clears his throat before turning away. _Okay, stop it. You just met this guy and you barely know anything about him. Stop thinking about how stunning his eyes are._

“So, the end scene is pretty sad, right?” Chan asks and Hansol nods eagerly. _Wow, this dude really values my opinion._

Chan reaches into his pocket and brings his phone out, opening up the music player. He scrolls through his songs for a while before he finally spots a suitable song for Hansol’s end scene.

“Try Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars, but like, just the instrumental,” Chan says, handing Hansol his phone. “Go listen to it outside. You wouldn’t be able to hear it in here.” 

Hansol nods and mumbles a little ‘okay’ before taking Chan’s phone out of his hand and stepping out of the booth. The younger of the two goes back to arranging songs as he waits, realizing that he’s going to have to talk soon and apologize to his listeners for being late. Not even a minute passes by when Hansol steps back into the booth, a huge smile on his face. 

“You’re a lifesaver, did you know that?” Hansol laughs as he sits down, handing Chan his phone back.

Chan can’t help but smile at these words, shaking his head as if he didn’t believe him completely. “You think so?” 

“I know so,” Hansol answers, nudging Chan in the arm. “Look, I have to go,” he says. “Thanks for the help, uh—“

“Chan,” the freshman cuts in, realizing he hasn’t introduced himself yet. “It’s Chan.” 

“Cute name,” Hansol comments while sending Chan a playful smirk. Chan tries to keep a straight face as he watches him put away his laptop, his neck suddenly warming up in what could only be considered as a blush. 

“Dude, no,” Chan snorts, trying to seem cool about it as Hansol slings his bag onto his shoulder, that stupid smirk still on his face.

“I’m just messing with you,” Hansol gives another laugh before playfully shoving Chan in the chest. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Sure. Come by any time if you need anything else,” Chan offers.

“Oh, you bet I will." 

And with that, Hansol exits the booth, leaving Chan to his music and to his thoughts. He rubs the back of his neck, recounting everything that happened in the past half-hour. It doesn’t take much for a smile to make its way onto his face. _He really has pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and a pretty face in general. And he’s a film major. I don’t know about other people, but I definitely dig film majors. There’s just something undeniably attractive about people who spend hours upon hours poring over production designs and aesthetics and all that shit._

Chan sighs almost dreamily as he reaches over to turn his mic on, the last few bars of The Chainsmokers’ ‘Roses’ fading out.

“Good afternoon, Pledis U. It’s your favorite little giant Chan and I’d like to first start off with an apology for being late…”

  

* * *

 

Hansol comes back to the booth the next day. 

He’s standing outside the door, panting from the effort of running all the way from his Film Production class. He didn’t know exactly _why_ he was running, but he _did_ promise Chan that he’d be back, so maybe that was it. _Well, it’s not as if he’s expecting me, right?_  

Shaking his head, Hansol peeks through the door, his eyes immediately falling onto Chan’s back. He seems to be talking into the microphone, headphones fit snugly against his ears and his hands moving around to press at different buttons. Hansol steps back and sees the red ‘ON-AIR’ sign lit up above the door, so he waits until it’s turned off before he brings his hand up to knock against the glass.

Chan turns around at the sound, pulling his headphones off. A smile easily makes its way on his face when he realizes it’s Hansol. He motions for the older boy to come in, and Hansol pushes the door open and steps in, the music spilling out of the building before it was quickly cut off, the door swinging back into place.  

“You guys did a really good job on soundproofing this place,” Hansol comments, walking over to where Chan was swinging the office chair around. Hansol finds the action endearing, and he realizes too late that he’s smiling; particularly at Chan.

“Well, we had to call in a few of the guys from the Engineering department to do the soundproofing for us. Wait, why are you smiling?”

Hansol’s expression immediately drops and he’s left stuttering over his words. “N-Nothing.” _I just find you extremely cute, that’s all._  

Chan seems to buy it because he nods, turning back to the computer in front of him. Hansol sits himself beside Chan, his eyes glued on what the young DJ was doing. He seems to be arranging music again and Hansol suddenly remembers why he’s so eager to be back in the booth with Chan.

“I want you to tell me more about the music you like,” Hansol abruptly speaks up. He remembers how he spent almost the whole night listening to The Civil War’s whole discography, wondering what other artists Chan listens to. “It might help me in the future, just like how it helped me yesterday.” 

“I like all kinds of music, really,” Chan admits, shrugging. He smiles all of a sudden as he turns to Hansol.  “Except for country.”

Hansol laughs at this. “Same, bro, same.” 

“Actually,” Chan continues on, “you could tell a lot about my music taste through the stuff I play during my shifts. Of course, I have to consider the listeners, but I try to mix in some of my favorite tracks as well.”

Hansol nods before motioning towards the console. “Is this something from your own personal playlist?” 

Mayday Parade’s Anywhere But Here was currently blasting throughout the whole booth and Hansol hopes that Chan would say yes. He’d be on cloud 9 if the freshman happens to listen to the same bands he does.

“Actually, yes,” Chan smiles up at him brightly, showing two rows of perfectly white teeth. If Hansol didn’t know any better, he would think that he was looking straight at the sun itself.

“Really? They’re, like, one of my favorite bands!” Hansol returns his smile and he couldn’t help but think, _Damn, I think I’ve met my soul mate.’_  

Hansol doesn’t know exactly, but something like embarrassment sweeps over Chan’s face. The younger one hangs his head low, hiding his face from Hansol, but the latter could tell that he was smiling. 

“Do you happen to like Michael Jackson, too?” Chan asks, finally looking back up. A light dusting of pink was evident on his cheeks and Hansol’s trying so hard to resist the urge to just reach over and run his fingers over Chan’s prominent cheekbones.

“Are you kidding? _Everyone_ likes Michael Jackson,” Hansol says, his voice coming out more enthusiastic than he intends it to be as he looks straight at Chan, trying to read his expression. He thinks he’s blushing, but he couldn’t tell for sure. The freshman’s eyes light up as he hears the words leave Hansol’s mouth.

“No way! I’m _obsessed_ with his music,” Chan gushes, practically bouncing in his seat. “I know everyone knows who he is, but his music is, like, _legendary_ and they’re really fun to dance along to.”

“Wait—you dance?” Hansol gapes at Chan, wondering if this boy has any other secrets he’s hiding.

“Yeah, but it’s more of a hobby. I usually just freestyle with my friend Soonyoung when he has time to spare. He’s a dance major,” Chan explains, fumbling with the hem of his sweater. Hansol notices the movement as he distractedly thinks about how it would feel like to hold his hand.

“You should show me some of your moves one of these days,” Hansol teases, eyes fixated on Chan as the younger shakes his head, laughing.

“I’ll pass.”

Hansol gives him a look as if to say ‘ _Are you fucking kidding me?_ and this has Chan laughing, his hands coming up to cover his face. Hansol reaches over and pulls at Chan’s wrists, forcing him to reveal his face. Chan looks mildly surprised, his mouth still open mid-laugh, but his eyes were wide, as if he wasn’t expecting Hansol to touch him so suddenly.

“Come on. Please?” 

Chan’s arms are resting on his lap now, Hansol’s fingers still loosely encircling his wrists. They stare at each other for a while, and suddenly the room feels as if it’s electrified. Hansol’s heart rate picks up and he’s thinking, _shit, shit, shit, this is all too fast, too soon,_ so he pulls his hands back, his head turning to face the other way. He can still feel Chan looking at him but he refuses to look back up at those wide, curious eyes. 

They stay like that for a while, neither of them saying a word, until Chan has to talk over the microphone again. Hansol sits quietly as he watches Chan work, amazed at how he makes the job look so easy. His fingers move deftly over the controls on the console, and he does it while talking and cracking jokes to his listeners. He seems to be passionate about what he’s doing and Hansol’s reminded about his own love for film. _I hope he never loses that glint in his eye, that fire he has, the potential, the eagerness. I don’t want him to be some washed-up uni graduate by the end of his senior year._

Hansol snaps out of his thoughts when a hand waves in front of his face. He realizes it’s Chan, and he feels a small tug at his chest when he sees the concerned look on the DJ’s face. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hansol answers dumbly.

“Look, I thought about what you said earlier. About showing you some of my dancing.” There’s a short pause. “I figured I’d only let you see me dance if _you_ dance with me.” 

Hansol almost chokes on his own spit. _Him? Dance?_ No fucking way.

“You seem like the type of person who can dance, or at least follow choreography, that’s why I’m asking,” Chan rushes on, his hands held in front of him as if he’s scared that Hansol might react negatively. As if he would ever have the heart to get mad at Chan. The freshman looks like a scared little puppy at the moment and all Hansol wants is to pull him in for a hug and never let go. Not that he’d actually do that, of course. “If you want, I can teach you,” Chan continues.

Hansol bites his lip, considering his offer. He _really_ wants to see Chan dance but he’d have to dance as well in order for that to happen. He’s jammed out to a lot of dance songs in his room back home and even in his dorm when his roommate was out, but he was _alone_ during those times. To have someone watch you and _teach_ you was something different altogether. 

Suddenly, he feels a hand place itself over his own, and he’s speechless as he watches Chan take the other one so he’s holding both of his hands, pulling on them and swinging them gently. 

‘ _Take my hand, I’ll teach you to dance. I’ll spin you around, won’t let you fall down._ ’

It takes a moment for Hansol to realize that Chan was singing a line from All About Us by He is We, and he is completely _floored_ at how utterly cheesy and adorable Chan is.

“Okay, okay, I’ll dance with you! Just don’t serenade me with sappy love songs ever again,” Hansol groans, throwing his head back in mock frustration. He doesn’t pull his hands back because Chan’s palms feel soft against his own and he could hold hands with him all day if the younger one would permit it. Chan beams up at him as he rubs his thumbs over the back of Hansol’s hand.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my singing.” This earns a sharp nudge to the knee from Hansol, but both of them are laughing and it’s like everything is forgotten and they’re the only ones existing in this world, holding hands inside a tiny radio booth and talking about being able to dance together.

Hansol leaves the booth that day, feeling as if he was on top of the world.

 

* * *

  

Chan chews on his lip as he reads the title over and over again. It’s the perfect song, and it’s one of his favorites, so what’s wrong? “ _Everything’s_ wrong,” he mumbles to himself. He sighs, burying his face in his arms, his forehead resting against the cold metal table. _Just do it. He probably wouldn’t be able to hear it, anyway._

But he _wants_ Hansol to hear it. Chan wants him to get what he’s trying to say and he wants Hansol to listen as he dedicates a small message to him over the radio. But he’s also fucking scared that all of this might turn out the wrong way and everything would just end up ruined. 

Before he can overthink any longer, Chan sits up straight in his chair and gets ready to talk over the air. He waits for the current song to end before pressing the microphone’s ‘on’ button, his hands shaking and his breathing shallow. _This is it_.

“Good afternoon once again, Pledis U. You’re listening to your favorite little giant, Chan!” The freshman greets in his usual cheery voice, trying to make it seem like nothing was out of the ordinary. “So, the next song is a little special since I’m dedicating it to someone.” Chan pauses for a moment, trying to remain calm before he continues on. “I met them a few days ago and I’ve already managed to ask them a huge favor, which, surprisingly, they agreed to do. You know who you are, and if you’re listening, come by the booth again. It gets lonely without you.”

Chan’s heart is beating a mile a minute as he plays the intro to Walk the Moon’s Shut Up and Dance. The music floods the whole room and Chan can’t help but jump out of his seat before running around the small booth. _I did it. I actually did it_. 

After a few more moments of half-embarrassed and half-ecstatic jumping, Chan settles back down in his chair, a huge smile on his face.

  

* * *

  

Hansol’s running towards the booth again and he notes that this might turn out to be a habit of his. He doesn’t care at the moment, though, because 1) he has exciting news to tell Chan and 2) speaking of which, Chan just dedicated a fucking song to him and he _has_ to go see him, like, _right now_ because that song _has_ to mean something. Not to mention all that stuff he said about the booth getting lonely without him.

He reaches the booth’s front door and he doesn’t even bother to look if the ‘ON-AIR’ sign is on (luckily, it isn’t) before pulling the door open and practically stumbling inside. Chan is standing there, leaning against the huge table in the center of the room, wearing a red flannel similar to the one Hansol wore on the day they first met, a black v-neck and black ripped jeans and Hansol thinks, _Holy shit he looks so fucking good I am so blessed today_.

Chan looks as if he was expecting him but his eyes are still wide and his lips are parted in surprise. Hansol doesn’t waste any time as he walks straight up to Chan, holding the rubric for his Film Scoring project in front of his face. 

“I got almost perfect marks on my project, the highest I’ve ever got on _any_ project, and it’s all because of you,” Hansol’s a little breathless and his voice is a little husky from the effort of running. He’s been told before that he sounds really attractive this way, and Chan would most likely agree with them, because he’s swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, his eyes traveling down Hansol’s face before coming to a stop at the older boy’s lips. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s not all because of me. I mean, you’re really good at what you do and—”

Hansol cuts him off by bringing his lips down on Chan’s, his hand coming up to cradle the side of his face. It’s sudden and unexpected and it’s how Hansol imagined kissing Chan would feel like and more.

Chan lets out a breath through his nose, his hands resting on Hansol’s hips, pulling him closer so their bodies are pressed together. He leans further into the table behind him, letting Hansol take control as their lips continue to move against each other.

Minutes passed, but it felt like hours to them, before they finally pulled away, lips swollen and breathing uneven. Chan reaches up to brush a strand of hair away from Hansol’s face, his fingertips ghosting over the skin on his forehead.

“Too fast?” Hansol asks, his voice soft and tentative. Chan said it himself; they met merely a few days prior and they’ve already borderline made out. To Hansol, everything seemed right, and this was college for crying out loud. Relationships are confusing and more often than not, couples don’t even know what to label themselves as and exactly where they stand.

Despite this, Chan just shakes his head, his fingers subtly slipping under the hem of Hansol’s shirt to rub at the skin right above his jeans.

“Nope. It’s perfect.”


End file.
